


Becoming Somebody

by alittlebriton



Category: Alias (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 15:34:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4484887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlebriton/pseuds/alittlebriton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sark runs, and finds himself drawn to his beginning. </p><p>Post A Man of His Word</p>
            </blockquote>





	Becoming Somebody

Fists clench at his side, the only sign that what the dark haired girl is doing to him is having any effect. He keeps his eyes open, never falling on her, but staring blankly at the wall ahead. She thought when she entered the room that he had shark’s eyes, como el acero. He blinks twice, lazily, after he comes. He thinks it considerate that he pays her the full amount and doesn’t shoot her. She had used her teeth even after he told her not to. Less skilled than the one in Venice.  
  
He pads to the door to put the chain on and check that there is no one lurking down the corridor. In this country, there is always someone willing to kill for the right price, and he ruefully rubs his shoulder where someone came close five years ago. He hadn’t been as considerate to them. Nevertheless, he likes it here. He can roll the vowels over the back of his throat, and he notices how women look at him when he does it, ignores them. After so long mixing business with pleasure, it makes him happy now, makes him feel safe, to have money change hands. He doesn’t pay for blondes.  
  
Emotions are messy, he remembers Irina telling him in a winter in… Omsk, he thinks. It was cold, so cold the colour seeped out of his eyes and when he looked at his reflection all he could see was an endless repetition of his face. He reminds himself that Irina became messy over a man she left behind, and vows that he won’t let that happen to him.  
  
He keeps that vow for nearly two years, avoiding all relationships, business or otherwise. A new record for him. He drops off the CIA’s most wanted list, he checks. He never wanted accolades anyway.  
  
He tracks her down after she puts a bullet through his thigh, her way of sending him a message. She always was a woman of few chosen words, which suited him. He was the quieter one in bed. He supposes it is her nightmares that cause her to cry out for hours in the dark, and a thought in the back of his mind wonders why he doesn’t get them.  
  
He crunches down in the snow on the path up to the house. His Sig rests relaxed in his hand, but he calculates that he is under no real threat. If she wanted him dead, she wouldn’t have aimed for his leg. When she opens the door, she doesn’t look surprised, but gestures him in with a nod of her head.  
  
Windows everywhere look out onto the snow, a white canvas that he itches to spoil. She approaches him in the middle of the room, and begins to circle him. He smiles to himself: she always did like the fanciful gestures. “I’m not your prey. You won’t hurt me, just as I promise not to hurt you.” She quirks an eyebrow and looks down at his gun. He sighs, dismantles it in under 20 seconds and throws the pieces on the white couch. “You sent for me?” “I shot you.” Cool voice, dark and mellow like the frozen earth under all this ice. “Same thing to you, Irina.” “Perhaps.”  
  
She comes closer, small body a sliver away from his, and examines his face. She will find nothing deeper than seven layers of skin, he knows, but he lets her look. It’s nice to see that someone has faith that he will become something more, one day. He lets his hand rise to touch her hair and she follows the arc that this movement makes with her quick eyes. Always the hunter. When she moves against him he erases seven years of his life, as swift as her mouth. He will let her turn him into somebody; she has done it once before.


End file.
